


Two Out of Three

by Riddlebird-puff (hobbitpuff)



Series: Summer of Gotham 2018 [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Dinner, First Date, M/M, Protective Custody, Songfic, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 04:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15549876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitpuff/pseuds/Riddlebird-puff
Summary: Season 1 - Gordon takes Oswald into protective custodySummer of Gotham Week 1Angst/Roommates





	Two Out of Three

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place in some sort of Season 1 AU where Jim takes Oswald into protective custody after dumping him off the docks. 
> 
> Really- timeline is not important!

Oswald was bored, staying with Gordon was not quite as exciting as he had first imagined it would be. He had been here four days and had already searched every corner of the penthouse for any hidden guilty sins the detective might harbor but if there were any to be found James kept them well hidden. 

 

The bedroom hid nothing more illicit than a half empty box of condoms and lilac scented lube. And the bathroom medicine cabinet held nothing stronger than over the counter sleeping pills and migraine medication. 

 

He had already gone through more than half of Jim’s record collection that consisted mostly of jazz, classic and modern, and classic rock. He had also searched through Jim’s VHS tape collection, that included several home videos of high school football games and other academic milestones but definitely no sex tapes. The remainder of the tapes were old black and white movies, film noir and war dramas. And the bookshelf held mostly crime novels, pulp detective stories, with a few science fiction sprinkled in. 

 

The penthouse was a little too perfect. Everyone had secrets, and Jim had to be concealing something. Other than a supposed wanted informant of the mob of course. 

 

Oswald checked the cellphone he had managed to conceal from Gordon. The message he had received that morning was still there.  _ Tomorrow. 8:15 am.  _ Falcone was ready to retract him from his mission, too bad it had been a failure. He wouldn't be happy.

 

He pulled out the newspaper clipping from his pocket and unfolded it out. The title read:  _ Kean Socialite Engaged to Cop _ . And below the title was a photo of Gordon in a policemen’s uniform with an attractive blond on his arm.  _ Barbara Kean _ . Oswald had only seen Ms. Kean, soon to be  _ Mrs.  _ Gordon, in photographs but he thought there was something in her eyes that  _ she  _ held secrets. His mission was to discover where Gordon had hidden his lady love but the only trace Kean had left behind was that there wasn't one. He folded it up and put it back in his pocket. 

 

Oswald flipped his phone and dialed a number from memory. It rang only once before it was picked up.  _ “Hello?”  _ He longed to answer the woman at the other end but it was not allowed.  _ “Ozwald is this you… I know this is you Ozzie-” _ He closed the borrowed phone with a sob. He rubbed at his eyes. He  _ missed  _ his mother, he was a pathetic excuse for a gangster. 

 

He had called her once a day. The first day she had hung up first after there had been no answer. The second day she had yelled at him for pranking her. The third day she had demanded he tell her where her Ozzie was, he had been the first to hang up that day. And he had nearly called Falcone to get him out after that. 

 

Oswald needed something to take his mind off of things until Gordon came home. He had been working late, busy with  _ the  _ case he stated but Oswald suspected he was avoiding him. Maybe that was the reason Ms. Kean had left him, he was never home. 

 

His stomach grumbled in protest of hunger. He had had nothing except cold cereal, hot oatmeal, and takeout the last four days and he was hungry. For real food. He went to the kitchen in search of something other than leftover pizza to eat. It was obvious Gordon did not often eat at home. Every meal was prepared and quick to make and eat on the go. He wondered if this was a recent development with the missing fiancé or if this was the detective’s usual diet. At least he had found no donuts yet.

 

He took down a package of dried ramen noodles and took out a package of hotdogs from the refrigerator along with a bottle of ketchup, two eggs, and sliced carrots. It wouldn’t taste as good as his mother’s but it would be better than two-day old rubber pizza. 

 

Before he started he chose one of the albums to fill the silence. The cover had caught his eye that first day as something his mother would never have allowed him to listen to. But the music that had played out of the speakers had surprised him. He had not known that rock could be as beautiful as anything composed by Beethoven or Mozart, it spoke to him in a way he could not explain but it reminded him of Jim Gordon.

 

Oswald began to prepare dinner enough for two singing softly with the record.  _ Oh baby you’re the only thing in this whole world that’s pure and good and right and wherever you are and wherever you go there’s always gonna be some light.  _ He was so concentrated on the meal that he had not heard Gordon come in. 

 

“You shouldn’t play this so loud when I’m not here, someone might hear it.” Jim turned the record player down but did not turn it off. “What are you doing in the kitchen?” Jim took off his jacket and draped it on a chair at the kitchen table. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves.

 

“What one usually does in a kitchen, cooking,” Oswald rolled his eyes. “Though by all appearances it has not served its purpose in some time.” 

 

“Is this your way of telling me you disapprove of my eating habits, Cobblepot?” Jim chuckled and picked up the bottle of ketchup. “Hotdogs and ketchup? I would’ve expected something a little more sophisticated from you.” 

 

“My mother was a single parent, Gordon. Believe me I’ve had worst.” He looked away, he did not like to speak of his humble beginnings. “And less.” His mother had gone to bed hungry many nights but she had always made sure he had not. 

 

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Jim picked up a cut piece of hotdog and plopped it in his mouth. “I’m hungry enough to eat this whole thing out of the pan.” He reached for another piece.

 

“That will not be necessary.” Oswald hit Jim’s hand with his spoon. “Surely you do have silverware somewhere in here,” he pointed to the cabinet that he knew held the plates. “And rinse the dust off of them.” 

 

“Never thought I’d be ordered around my own kitchen by a penguin.” Jim pulled down two plates and ran them under the faucet. “Was it your mother that taught you how to cook?” 

 

“She worked,” Oswald shrugged. “I had to learn how to fend for myself.” 

 

“She cares for you very much.” He took the dry plates to the kitchen table and set them across from each other. “She misses you.” 

 

Oswald turned off the stovetop. “What do you mean?” 

 

“Harvey and I paid her a visit today,” Jim sighed. “You’re still a missing person of interest, Oswald. Even if I know you’re not really missing I have to keep up appearances.” 

 

“How.. did she seem?” He brought the pan to the table and scooped the noodles onto the plates. He sat down.

 

“Worried.” Jim sat across from him. “She told us an interesting story. She says she has been receiving strange phone calls once a day, everyday, for the past three days. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Oswald?”

 

He swallowed the food in his mouth. “No. Why should I?” 

 

“I know this is difficult for you,” Jim put his fork down. “But if anyone figures out where you are we’ll lose our chance to take down Falcone.” 

 

“I know, James.” Oswald was an accomplished liar but he did not like lying to the detective. Jim Gordon was the only honest person left in Gotham, too bad Gotham would either change him or kill him. 

 

“Your mother seems to believe you have been taken by a wicked city woman and being held against your will to live in sin.” He took a bite of food. 

 

“I don’t even date.” James chuckled at Oswald’s words. “I mean who would date someone like me?” 

 

“Hey-, Oswald,” Jim paused. “Someone might even consider this a date. Home cooked dinner, music, conversation. In fact we’re only missing one thing.” He got up and opened the cabinet under the sink and held up a bottle of wine. “We were saving this for- well,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore, I guess.” He pulled down two champagne glasses and brought them to the table.

 

“Why are you doing this?” It would be almost too easy to make believe he was on an actual date with the oh so handsome detective but he knew better. Everyone wanted something from him and Jim was no different. 

 

“Maybe it's just been awhile since I came home to a home cooked meal,” he answered and opened the wine bottle. He poured Oswald’s glass first then his own. He sat back down and held his glass out towards Oswald. “A toast to a partnership that will shake the foundations of Gotham.” 

 

And burn it to the ground, the thought came unbidden to Oswald’s mind. “To the light of friendship in the dark,” he clicked his glass against Jim’s and drank. The wine was too sweet for his taste. 

 

It was considered bad luck to break the oath of a toast. Good thing he didn’t believe in luck, good or bad, except what he made himself.

 

“And to first dates,” James drank. “I have an idea,” he got up again, “stay there.” He motioned Oswald to stay seated. He walked over to the record player and moved the needle.  _ Baby we can talk all night, but that ain’t gettin us nowhere.  _ Jim came back to Oswald and held out his hand. “May I have this dance, Mr. Cobblepot?” 

 

“I don’t dance,” he looked away. “My leg would never hold the weight.” There was only one thing Oswald feared: falling. Literally and figuratively.

 

“Do you trust me?” Jim waited. 

 

“I’ve learned to only trust one thing, betray before you are betrayed.” He had been betrayed by every single person he trusted but one, his mother. 

 

“Trust works both ways, Penguin,” Jim paused. “Take my hand.” 

 

Oswald stared at Jim’s outstretched hand and recognized the old fear of rejection. James would take his hand away at the last moment and laugh at him when he fell on his ass. He could still hear the sound of laughter. He shut his eyes and grabbed Jim’s hand. James clasped his hand and Oswald pulled himself up. 

 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to lead, James,” Oswald placed his arms around his neck, the last time they had been this close Gordon had let him fall, and taken his heart. 

 

James Gordon was a good man, maybe the only good man left in this cursed city, but there was a darkness beneath the surface that Oswald felt drawn to. And he had seen it that day at the docks. 

 

“We’ll both lead,” Jim put his hands on Oswald’s hips and held him closer than what would probably be considered proper at a high school dance. 

 

Oswald wasn’t naive, he knew Gordon was seducing him in a sense to gain his cooperation and trust but he wondered how far the detective was willing to go with it.

 

_ But you’ve been cold to me so long I’m crying icicles instead of tears. _

 

James bent his head close enough to kiss him and then- his cellphone rang. Jim dropped his hands and stepped away. “Sorry, I have to take this. It could be about the case.” He turned his back to Oswald and answered the phone.

 

“Barbara…? No, you can’t come back yet. It isn’t safe.” James took the phone into his bedroom and closed the door.

 

Oswald didn’t follow. He limped back to the table and started clearing the now cold dinner. 

 

_ I want you, I need you, but there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you, now don’t be sad, ‘cause two out of three ain’t bad. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The album Oswald listens to is Bat Out of Hell from Meatloaf. It's one of my favorite albums and it really gives me Gobblepot feelings. The songs in order are: Bat Out of Hell and Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad.
> 
> This is my second Music/Dance fic in a row but I wanted to write a Gobblepot version (the other was Nygmobblepot) of the prompt too. So here it is!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> PS - Gordon is absolutely using Oswald in this fic and Oswald knows it. But I think there's some fondness on Gordon's part too. And pity. This can almost be considered a prequel to my With Favors Gobblepot fic even though it is not directly related.


End file.
